I am nineteen years older than Heather (Mrs. F L). I was born in 1956, she was hatched born in 1975 – the year I graduated High School. In spite our undying love for one another, there are times when we don’t quite see eye to eye on things.

Like disciplining the kids.

Since shooting them in the ass with a 12 gauge shotgun shell loaded with rock salt is illegal, I generally defer to a savage beating for them. Heather is ore of a “use your words” to show displeasure kind of gal. This is what I call the “Pussification of the Young Dumbasses”.

When necessary to the plot, if someone (an adult) pisses me off, I am more of a “Splatter Their Nose Across Their Face” kind of guy. Mrs. Fearless Leader would tell them to “go to the Naughty Corner.”

Fuck that noise.

I want to see someone writhing in severe pain and agony. She wants them to hold hands and sing “Kumba-fucking-ya”.

In addition to our age difference, I was raised in 1950s/60s Texas, Heather was brought up in 1970s/80s Maine.

The time and place I grew up in requires, nay demands, an ass kickin’ from time to time. Up here in Maine, they just scream real loud at the offending party.

And sing “Kum-ba-fucking-ya” with them.

Over the course of the almost-ten years that we have been together, we have more or less met in the middle when it comes to keeping our kids in line with Polite Society.

These days I very politely shoot them in the ass with a 12 gauge shotgun shell filled with rock salt while they are in the “Naughty Corner” singing “Kumba-fucking-ya”.

See?

The Shit works out right.

While some of our disagreements are quite “animated”, in the almost-decade that I have been in Heather’s life, she has dented no more than a couple of cast iron skillets on my cranium. Three, tops.

When some couples can not reach an amicable resolution to their differences, one, or both, will resort to more drastic measures.